


Dream and Seduce

by YanderePuppet



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Dream connections, F/F, F/M, Goddess!Aerith, Love/Hate, M/M, Mindfuckery (duh), Rating May Change, Sexual Confusion, Social Awkwardness, Unhealthy Relationships, pseudo time travel, that's practically canon though, yandere!Sephiroth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanderePuppet/pseuds/YanderePuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forced into a challenge to earn his right to live again, Sephiroth is tasked by Aerith to change and alter a past version of their world, one that exists purely from memory and- solely in Cloud's and his dreams. The task, and the ultimate end goal that will earn his return to life? He must successfully seduce the memory of Cloud before the dream reaches Meteorfall. The only issue is how to do this when Cloud knows he's being seduced, and is entirely against the idea?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: *add later*

 

He was obsessing. He had been for the past eight years, and he knew he had… but- what else did he have to hold on to? And when he could semi-stalk his obsession with little effort here, well… Except, it was boring. More entertaining than waiting for his new plan to fall into action. Or even just floating listlessly through endless green and blue. No, he’d sit here in the section he’d tainted and watch the living. Specifically one person. And He yearned so badly to touch that person again, to fight and feel like he didn’t have to hold back _quite_ as much as usual. And how he loved those bright _strong_ ** _defiant_** eyes looking only at him. _Understanding_ eyes. Eyes full of hate and loathing and longing and dying admiration. He _loved_ those eyes. He wanted them to himself, he thought. Wanted those bright cobalt pools to himself, only for him. And he was patient….but…. his patience was wearing thin. The tiring state death left him in, between returns to living, was the most agonizing of boredoms and longings. As much as he enjoyed his ‘cloud-watching’ he wanted to be able to do more than watch passively. Far more. Anger, betrayal, obsession, desire, _want_ the lust for power that he had over this life but couldn’t use from where he was! He horded memories of the blonde with a strange jealousy. If he was a lesser entity, he’d claim it to be hatred, but he knew better. Hate was only one ingredient in the slew of random feelings that made up his attitude towards his ‘ _fated rival.’_ Above all else…. He almost cared for him. Too much, it would seem. But he hated him at the same time, and loved him and craved him and wanted, snakelike obsession poised to choke the resistance away slowly, squeezing the fight out. But he wanted it faster. he just didn’t know how to do that.

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He wasn’t sure quite how he ended up here, in the past, but not really. It was a dream sequence past that would only alter one thing. His state of existence. It was a game. One the flower girl set up to try and make him lose, but he wouldn’t. The object of the game was to alter the fake re-creation of the past, around the time of his original return, and attempt to seduce the fake memory of Cloud. If he succeeded, the flower girl would let him return to living without a convoluted scheme, and everything he did here would be conveyed to the real Cloud in dreams as he went along. Cloud, as it turned out, was let in on this game and agreed to it (albeit grudgingly.) He vowed to not let himself be romanced, but that only made the challenge sweeter. And since the blonde was little more than a passive, first person observer of this, he would enjoy it all that much more. 

He’d landed in a peculiar spot, Sharing a cell with a trembling blonde inside Shinra HQ. He was exactly the same, minus his current civilian like clothes. The memory that appeared like Cloud was looking at him. 

“How are you here?” It asked. He just smirked at it. 

_ ‘I followed your scent’ _ he projected the thought. There was a pause where a distraught blonde realized he was hearing voices.

“Are you a ghost?”

‘ _ You could call me such’ _

“what do you mean?” 

_ ‘I thought that was clear.’ _

“I…” The frazzled looking blonde slumped down in his cell. He shifted through the memory’s memories (And for the love of his damned near holy self that was confusing to think of) to figure out what part of the timeline he’d fallen into. The failed attempt to rescue his  _ true _ enemy, He hid his jealousy well enough, knowing his ‘past self’ would break the blonde’s cell door and murder every present employee, with the exception of Palmer, the witness. There would be  _ two _ of him. How to play that off without Cloud hating him…He walked toward the boy (because this scared and memory deprived version of Cloud was still a boy with five years of life stolen away and forgotten, and not the battle hardened, PTSD riddled fighter he was familiar with- though….. he was buried in there somewhere, watching) and grabbed a hand.

“You’re shaking. It’s very distracting.” The hand was cold. Like his own. The callouses were soft, new. But the muscle was developed. Everything seemed wrong in the kind of way that excited him. The way that was familiar to him because  _ his _ blonde was like him. He looked at the door. “I can bust you out, if you desire.” To his not quite surprise, Cloud was flabbergasted and a bit overcome with hatred. Ah, he forgot how bad it was back this far. 

“Not from you. I can do it myself.” This stubbornness was familiar. Something he associated with Cloud a little later. This one didn’t know about the mind-body link yet. Didn’t know the mockery turned nickname that made the older, future Cloud shudder in fear and hatred and desire because it was a reminder. A reminder that he his own mind wasn’t just his own, that his will could be rewritten (though doing so was ultimately a boring idea- unless, unless…. it was small things, to make him paranoid. He would break him the hard way. Slowly.) 

“If you wish to believe so, I won’t push you.” He dropped the boy’s hand, ignoring the cot across the cell to sit beside his current target. “The offer still stands, however. Don’t want to leave someone like you in prison for too long, Cloud. The other inmates might think you’re female, and take advantage.”  The blonde stiffened. He hit a nerve. Should he mention the cross dressing he knew happened not even a day ago?

“...What do you care?” Disinterested, cocky, untrusting. This fake was very much like the real one, he decided. 

“We’re friends , aren’t we?” He purred.  
“Keh… not anymore.” The blond all but spat. He merely brushed a finger along the back of his neck absently in response. 

“Then, that’s quite sad, isn’t it?” He whispered softly. “Thinking that you don’t care about me anymore.” It had the desired effect.

“Why do you even care?” Cloud asked with his usual uncaring persona, but there was a slight guilty look in his eyes, showing that he felt bad. 

“I’m not entirely certain why myself.” He replied. And it was true. There were many reasons he could name, but he knew….most wouldn’t obsess  _ near _ as much as he had in the same situation. 

“Is that your way of saying you really don’t?” The blonde asked, suspicious, proud and defensive. Cautious. And, he decided, the boy had every right to be. 

“Merely my way of saying that I can’t just explain my fascination... _ fixation _ with you all that easily.” he purred. “It’s not as simple as, “Your hair intrigues me” or your “eyes are pretty” or even that i admire your stubborn attitude. I just want everything you are more than I can fathom words to describe.” He finished. Blue eyes look at him in intrigue and horror. The blonde was creeped out, but that was nothing. He’d still win him over. Of that, he was certain. He merely grinned down at that awkwardly creeped out face, purring to himself.

“....Are…...you...implying….that……” Cloud looked mortified as he choked on his words.

“I’m implying precisely what you think I am implying, yes.” He purred. “I don’t have to keep my feelings secret anymore, do I?”

“..........What?” Suspicion. Confusion. Nothing more. No spark, no light added to his eyes.  _ That _ …. he’d admit…..was...  _ disappointing.  _ Disheartening even. And  highly  _ irritating.  _ It was all  _ her  _ fault too, he thought to himself. If neither girl had caught Cloud’s interest….. He growled in frustration jealousy, and decided to change the subject...for now.

“There’s only one cot in the cell.” He prompted. 

“And….? Let me guess…..”

“Take it. I’ll sleep like this.” He told the blonde as he leaned back against the wall.

“.....I…..um….what?” Cloud replied eloquently.

“Quite articulate aren’t you?” He teased. “You look like you need the cot more than I do.” He added.

“...What’s that supposed to mean?” The rather curt, jaded reply came. He took a second to soak up the wary expression in those blue eyes before replying with a cloying about of concern to his voice.

“You look as though you haven’t slept in days.” He said. “And unlike me, you require rest to keep going.” He said, knowing the blond would follow his logic.

“Fine.” Cloud grumbled as he tucked in, and fell asleep, in what had to be only slightly less uncomfortable a position than the floor anyway., making him wonder why he’d bothered convincing him into it. He sighed to himself. Better than nothing at least, right? 

“Goodnight, Cloud.” He whispered out across the two feet between them, as he lay back against the wall and waited for morning.


	2. stalker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because I have to prove I'm still alive somehow. Was planning on updating Split and Crashing Silence first but oh well. 
> 
> A/N: Don’t know when this’ll be finished or posting, but it the seventh of september now as I start, and I’m only typing it because Crashing silence is gonna end with a super smutty chapter that I refuse to write while on a college campus. I’ll type that stuff at home -.-
> 
> Anyway, this fanfic is not precisely my favorite, but as I’ve yet to update it at all, well…
> 
> Yeah
> 
> I don’t own anything, all rights belong to Square Enix
> 
> And I didn't really type much either. Been too busy with split. I'm making a long chapter that might not be posted to the story itself
> 
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

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Now, he didn’t really sleep. Wasn’t quite human enough for such things. Well, most creatures slept, animals at least. Most other organisms at least rested. But he… well, he had no use for such things. So upon hearing the blond’s breath slow and relax in the small cot, he merely scooted away from the wall, going over to stare. He wasn’t… _stalking_ … the blond ...per say… merely... _observing_ something that was already _his_ (at least, “his” in his own mind. But he was never really denied that which he wanted, and he _wanted_ the short male more than he’d ever wanted anything.) Yes, that was it. He was not some lowly human stalker. (A small yet entirely derisive piece of him, the _old_ him from before he chose to go down this path, scoffed at him. His own scathing voice sounding in the back of his mind. “Don’t sugarcoat it, that’s exactly what a stalker would do. Which, you are. Look at how far we’ve come, only to stalk a _dream_ of him.”) He promptly brushed such thoughts away. Stalker or no, dream or no, the blond was _his_ and his alone. He would not listen to beratement. Even if it came from himself. No, he had to plan, yes, plan. If he pulled this off well enough, if he seduced this dream- _memory_ of Cloud, then… yes, then the real thing would sprout those same feelings. The hatred so strong it turned loving and tender, the love so strong it became as violent as hate. Those feelings he held, those slick, slimy, ugly possessive feelings in his chest when he looked down at this blond man… they’d be requited soon. He _needed_ that. Love. Hate. Jealousy. Betrayal. All of his own conflicted jumble, his powerful, _obsessive,_ hybrid of an emotion… they’d share it. Together. Forever. All of it!

He lightly stroked his fingers down smooth, round cheeks. He took more time to stare now. The carnage wouldn’t happen for a few more hours, Cloud was asleep, there was a faint glow of light still from the sterile bulb in the cell. The small pulse of pure, sterile, unforgiving white light cast dramatic shadows on the soft creamy skin beneath him. Skin so soft it hardly belonged to an adult. But then, from his own memory he knew the blond was missing five years of his own memory at this point. A sixteen year old masquerading as twenty-one. Alive twenty-one years, but eternally frozen in that teenage form, thin and short, pouty faced. Only the small changes from the mako really changed anything from five years ago. Slightly less skinny. More muscle on that small frame. 5’7 wasn’t tall for a man, but it was still a whole three inches more than it had been back then. What little body hair there had been was gone now. Even asleep with eyes closed, a faint aqua halo of pure radiance fell from dark golden lashes, a mere glimpse of the brightened sapphire to azure eyes. He felt the blonde stir in his sleep. Face turned toward him now, where he could more easily see that flawless face. The light, faint dusting of freckles on that thin nose that was barely noticeable from farther away.  The small specks that continued over plump cheeks. The soft, warm pink of those lips. Petal like, they seemed. He moved closer, slowly but carefully tasting them. But he was careful. He didn’t want to wake the blond yet. No, not yet. But, oh, that taste. There was a slight metallic tang to it, and this close he could see the indent, the small piece of dead skin on the inner side of the lip. Lip biting. He knew that quirk well. Something the blond did when nervous or afraid. Just a small habit. One easily masked by how fast it all healed. In fact, even as he watched, the sore all but disappeared, nothing but brand-new, soft flesh left in it’s wake. He traced the area where the sore had been. No doubt there’d be a new one in the morning.

He sighed then still tracing, allowing himself time to think this all through. Normally, one would think traveling back in time would allow them to relive their own life, not be a bystander. And Having two of one person… he still didn’t know how he’d play himself off. Maybe… no… that wouldn’t work. He’d have to think of something. Perhaps if he acted like he’d been cloned? That was too obvious. Of course he had. And he knew no one would think either of the real thing was one. None of the “clones” looked like him. He might just tear out his hair at this point. What even was the point? Nothing he did would change things… unless… but… that was too easy… he didn’t want…

No. He couldn’t. To do so would be to end the game too early. Besides, it was a petty, cheap tactic, and in the end would only be temporary anyway. No mind fuckery or cell control stuff. Okay, maybe a little, but it wouldn’t be his whole strategy. He needed to tone it down enough to keep it unnoticed. He purred to himself. His mind formulated a whole strategy now. The only problem was fixing it around unexpected events. But he’d always excelled at such. It was his… specialty. Planning for every possible turn of events, expected or not, likely or unlikely. Besides, even if his strategies fell through, he had enough brute strength on his own to obliterate entire armies and not even break a sweat. He had the will, the knowledge, and the strength to achieve this ( _Then why are you even here? I mean, clearly you’ve failed this before to be here. Maybe you’re too cocky.)_ He wanted to slam his face into the wall. Where was this damn voice even coming from? Did the more cynical side of himself simply gain it’s own voice? He growled. Maybe it was a good thing. This voice had a point. Maybe if he wasn’t so stubborn about methodology he’d have the blond to himself already. But he wouldn’t give in and just… force it… It would be all the more sweet to finally receive his prize after he’d worked to _earn_ that which he most desired. Yes, he’d fight and nag and chat with him this time. He’d befriend him, then work his way from there. The doors suddenly opened and he cocked his head calmly in the direction of the other him. They stared at eachother for a few minutes. Time slowly ticked by as they gazed with eerie unblinking eyes at one another. Suddenly, they were side by side. He’d transferred what he new to the recreation of himself, and it seemed to immediately understand. He purred. With two of himself to work with, he’d win this little game that much easier.

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End file.
